#That's why Scott has to defeat him

[sirghostheart]

[ID: The stick figure violence meme. The top text says: "Girls when" and the center text says ""Gideon...I think I understand you man... And now I have to kill you."". End ID.]

I really hope I get to see this scene animated in the new show.

[malfoys-demigod]

hii! it’s iluvloganhowlett i’m just on my other acc! could you do a logan fluff where logan has a soft spot for u and lit only u? like for a prompt, scott asks a question and logan answers with some “it’s none of your business” or is j flat out mean where as when you ask the same question minutes later he’s nicer and thorough with his answer.

and can u please make it logan x mutant!reader🥰🥰

Logan Howlett, underrated softie

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ Logan Howlett x Reader

A/N: Hi @iluvloganhowlett!! I really appreciate your request and here it is! Enjoy, dear!!

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

Winters in upstate New York were exceptionally known for their extreme coldness.

Which of course was no shock that a particular mansion at Westchester County was at -3 degrees celcius, almost reaching at 4 in your keen opinion.

Just being inside made you want to wear a thick full body coat today, wrapped with your favorite scarf and gloves. But you felt silly about that idea, seeing how everyone else was just casually surviving the day with good long sleeved tops. How lucky of them.

Though it was only 8pm, you had the senseless idea of wrapping yourself in your blanket, trying to fall asleep in your bedroom, desparately hoping to sleep through the coldest day of the week.

After a few tosses and turns, feeling the icy breeze sneak into your body, you just knew there was no hope in dozing off. Not with this kind of weather!

You groaned in defeat, sitting up to curse to yourself why you had to feel so, so, so frigid of all days today.

Maybe some instant hot chocolate by the kitchen would help you soothe yourself into sleeping soon.

So you got up, wore an oversized sweater over your thick long sleeved top, placed on your fuzzy slippers, and made your way out of your room to the kitchen.

There were still students around the mansion, either reading books with each other, watching the television by the living room, or playing some board games while having hot beverages and snacks. Hmmm, the smell of hot chocolate from some of them just made you realize that hot chocolate is always a good idea.

Meanwhile over at the kitchen, just a few minutes before you had arrived, Storm was in one of the seats in front of the counter, having her decaffinated coffee, mixing some sugar and some milk with it. Yup, she was one of those who enjoyed the taste of cofffe, even at night, so she has it decaffinated so it won't affect her sleep later.

Scott grabbed a bowl and a box of Lucky Charms cereal from the cupboards and made his way to the fridge, which was being leaned on by Logan, who was having a round of beer.

Scott stood in front of Logan with a serious look on his face, expecting Logan to move. But Logan, who wanted to mess with the man, just stared back at him, flashing a mischievous look. "You should take a picture, it'll last longer."

"Move, asshole," Scott sneered, "I need milk."

Logan continued drinking from his beer, still eyeing scott with the same mischievous look on his face, ignoring his command.

"Oh, Scott, I still have some!" Storm interrupted, saving Scott from possibly wanting to strike Logan, based on his tight grip on his bowl, and now slightly wrinked cereal box.

"Dick," Scott muttered under his breath, moving through Logan, who felt like he won another round of Logan v Scott. That small win was now done being celebrated when you finally arrived into the kitchen.

"Hey guys," you greeted your colleagues, getting some 'heys' from Storm and a slightly disgruntled Scott.

"Hey, doll," Logan recited gently, earning a dear smile from you. He watched you look around the cupboards, noticing your mystified expression as you wandered around each cupboard and cabinets.

You then moved to the fridge, "Sorry, could I just check something inside?" you asked Logan softly with your fingers skimming over each other.

Scott looked up from his meal, watching Logan expose a smile on his mouth, gently moving aside as you opened the fridge, watching you hmph in disappointment.

Scott made his own quiet hmph to himself, seeing Logan's patience with you, to which Storm smiled coyly seeing sparks fly around the tough Wolverine.

"Didn't find what you were looking for, darl?"

"Yeah, I think the kids got the last instant hot chocolate powders for themselves," you frowned lightly in disappointment. "It's okay though," admitting in defeat. You were starting to make your way out, looking at the doorframe, "I think I'll just-"

"Hold on there, bub," Logan's instruction brought you to a halt. You turned around to see a now quiet Logan, whose eyes were looking into, what he thought, were puppy eyes. "Instant powders are for kids," he continued, his eyes quickly scanning around the room as if he was about to make use of the information around him.

"How about I make you some real hot chocolate, huh?"

While Scott and Storm turned to each other, exchanging unsure looks, you let out a small laugh in disbelief, which determined Logan to actually pull it off.

"You?"

You didn't want to sound mean about it, I mean, anyone can make hot chocolate. It wasn't rocket science, or some gourmet dish, but never in your wildest dreams did you think that Logan Howlett, the man who only went to the kitchen to bring out his secret stash of beer, would make you hot chocolate?

But the way you asked didn't matter to Logan, as he got whole milk, chocolate, whipped cream, and heavy cream from the fridge, walked to another counter for powdered sugar, and expresso powder, which he directly got a teaspoon of from Storm's side to which she didn't say anything about, since she herself, was inclined to watch Logan act as if he was someone else she didn't know.

Logan was now whisking together his ingredients in a saucepan that you helped get.

"How long should these be over the heat?" you tip-toed, wanting to see over Logan's shoulder's as he was perfectly centered in front of the saucepan.

"Till you see small bubbles appear around the edges," he replied, looking over at you tip-toe, which he wanted to melt at just seeing.

He then stirred in chopped chocolate, waiting for it to melt, and carefully placing the sauce to low heat, stating to you that 'it's needed for the chocolate to melt completely.'

His little moment of domestic fluff with you and him in the kitchen was put to a pause when a voice from somewhere behind him got his unfortunate attention.

"Since when did you have time to learn all this?," Scott teased, receiving a nudge from the elbow from Storm who shook her head.

"Shut the hell up, prick," Logan said, not even facing a smirking Scott.

Logan then served the drinks in two mugs for him and for you, of course topping them with lots of whipped cream. More than excited to try Logan's hot chocolate, you immediately took a careful sip, tasting the intense, rich, and absolute heaven which had to be the most decadent hot chocolate ever.

"Oh my god," you said, closing your eyes with satisfaction, "It feels like I'm in one of those Parisian cafes, drinking the best hot chocolate there."

It was as if every sip made you forget about how cold and freezing you were just earlier, and seeing you look so content with the drink made Logan want to beam, but of course realized Scott and Storm were, annoyingly still around.

"Glad you like it, Y/N," he thanked, seeing you turn to face him with a curious look on your face.

"I do want to ask..." you hung back the question, "When did you have time to learn how to perfect this? I know you didn't just learn this overnight."

It was a genuine question because despite living since the 1800s or so, it was not exactly like Logan had free time to cook around or whip up hot chocolate, right? This man went through a lot in his life, and would he really just use his spare time investing in something like.. hot chocolate?

Logan looked down, with a humble and small smile on his face.

"My mother..," he first started, "When I was young and while my dad was out, she would make hot chocolate on cold days, or even any day for that matter."

There was so much value you had, appreciating the little yet deeply personal story behind your now, favorite drink. You knew Logan was never an open book with anyone. It was more of a shut and locked up book with the key below the bottom of the ocean for no one to pick up.

But the way he had just been with you tonight so far, was like, he was giving you the key for you, and literally you only.

"So you rememberd her exact recipe?" you inquired more, with a sparkle that Logan saw in your eyes.

"Nah, not exactly," he said, slightly timid with a grin, " 'course I adapted to today's ingredients like instant whipped cream, but it's something like what she made before."

"Do you think you could make some for me again tomorrow?" You genuinely requested, which made Logan more or less, want to fold and do as you say in a heartbeat.

But of course, he wanted to slightly play it cool. "Don't see why not," nodding in agreement.

"Good, I'm gonna bring this with me back to my room now," you announced, "Thanks so much, Logan, good night!"

You then smiled at Scott and Storm, waving them goodbye as you walked away from them, leaving them to smirk like children at Logan.

"That was cute." Storm said, bringing Logan back to his usual, serious look.

"I'd love to try some tomorrow too, Logan," Scott tried to fake his genuine statement at the same time trying not to burst a laughter out of him.

Without any words this time, Logan, holding his mug of hot chocolate in hand, passed Scott with one claw out from his other hand, slicing his cereal box in half.

"Asshole!" Scott yelled, now trying to pick up the pieces of cereal as Logan walked out of the kitchen took a sip from his mug, indulding in the fact that,

A. he made another successful hot chocolate in his life

B. he gets to make it again for you tomorrow

C. he hopes to make it for you for as long as winter's still there.

[etirabys]

meandering post about reading Orson Scott Card again

I've been offline starting at 9pm every day (except once. I was drunk at karaoke and asked for anons at 8:30pm) for six weeks, with the result that in befuddled boredom two nights ago I picked up Orson Scott Card's Songmaster from the house bookshelf.

I read Ender's Game and three sequels when I was a teen thought the books were mid. Since those are OSC's best works I assumed he had nothing more interesting to offer me and didn't try more of him for fifteen years, but Songmaster was compelling enough that I immediately afterwards picked up The Memory of Earth, the first book of a pentalogy.

TMoE is extremely my jam: after humanity blows itself up on Earth, AIs monitor thriving human civilizations in the planets that survivors managed to escape to, and suppress any tech that enables large scale violence by exerting low key mind control via satellites. But forty million years pass, many of the satellites break down, and the AI needs help from humans to restore capabilities. Because as its control wanes, people are starting to e.g. conceive of airplanes or bombs again, and override the injunctions against entering military alliances more than two edges of connection away.

The AI is worshipped as a god all over the planet, but the fourteen year old protagonist that becomes one of the AI's agents tells the AI from the beginning that he'll break with it if its morality seems wrong to him. I like the fourteen year old – unlike Ender or Songmaster's protagonist (adult minds piloting ten year old bodies), he's a normal gifted kid who's unpopular 50% due to his ego and big mouth and 50% because he's socially inept and offends people even when he's trying to be nice.

Songmaster is also partly about a permanent solution to large-scale violence, albeit through one guy who establishes a monopoly on violence and sweeps in pax galactica. Both it and TMoE are preoccupied with the eradication of suffering from evil / human violence, which is closer to my resonant frequency than narratives about defeating particular people or ideologies. At the moment I can't think of any other book with such an insistent focus on the matter than T.H. White's The Once and Future King. It's hard to make a compelling story out of, and I don't think Songmaster really succeeds, but TMoE's premise is well suited to explore that. (I'm also enjoying the matriarchal culture where everyone is expected to have multiple serial-monogamous marriages.) After reading 70% of TMoE last night I wrote:

Usually when I read fiction there's a small part of me going, how can I use this as fodder for my own growth, how can I remix or improve or react against this, how do the author and I measure against each other? (If the quality and content are at an anti-sweet spot, the small part becomes quite large and I feel all teeth towards the author.) But on occasion I read something so close that the absence of that measuring-feeling is its own sensation – ego departs, or at least is split across two bodies. There's just amity and recognition

And it's pretty interesting to feel this way about Card for, well, the reasons.

(If you're familiar with Card drama none of the following will be new to you; I'm coming to it fresh so the rest of this post is me going "uh... wow")

I vaguely knew he was a homophobic Mormon who'd gotten into fights about gay stuff, but I couldn't tell from the Ender books I read. But in Songmaster his issues spring off the page in such a weird way. Every fifth Goodreads review of this book is "Card, u gay?" because, well,

(One review, possibly from a fellow Mormon, that went "Card, it's so sinful of you to be this gay in your novel". Why did he write this book that would predictably make everyone mad...)

it's full of gay male desire. The protagonist (Ansset) is approximately a castrato and characters notice him sexually a lot. The first and only time Ansset has sex it's with a Kinsey 4-5 male character he loves, who's married to a woman but has fallen in love with Ansset. It turns out the drugs Ansset took to prolong his singing career painfully and only-kinda-figuratively explode your balls when you have your first orgasm and you'll never feel sexual desire again. (You'd think his loving teachers would have warned him of that, but, whatever, they didn't.) The other guy is literally castrated in punishment for inadvertently torturing a highly valuable castrato. It's pretty bald: GAY SEX IS ALMOST IRRESISTIBLY TEMPTING BUT YOU SHOULDN'T DO IT.

(Sidenote: both Ansset and the guy's wife are very close and have a "there's enough love to go around" attitude about the gay sex initially, before they go "wait Josif is a SERIAL MONOGAMIST... he can only love one person at a time... the moment he had the gay sex his marriage was destroyed". It's funny in a mildly stupid way that Card would set up this parable of homosexuality destroying lives and a marriage but almost everyone involved is peacefully ready to sail into an open marriage. I guess it makes sense if you want to say very clearly that THE GAY PART IS THE BAD PART)

which is fascinating to me, because... why would you tell on yourself like that

(81k also told me secondhand of an essay? interview? where Card openly says "we have to stand against legalizing gay marriage because everyone will get gay married and society will collapse", so that's informing my read of Songmaster as well)

I am pretty dang open about my personal life online but if I had a lot of feelings I thought were disgusting and immoral I would not write a novel dripping with those feelings before pointedly castrating the leads for them. Especially if it wasn't relevant to the actually highbrow themes of (checks notes) winning over your adversaries with kindness and never relinquishing your monopoly on violence. I would be so so so so embarrassed to let this go to print, it's so psychologically transparent, what was he thinking

(Well, I assume he's a very different person with different social incentives. For all I know, people in his church went "hey Orson we read your book and it's clear that you're gay but signaling strongly that you won't give into the gay feelings, we're here for you, it was really brave of you to publish this".)

[sexualtensiongrowing21]

“You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to date you to get him off your back.”

Isaac Lahey X Reader

TW; Mentions of physical abuse. 

Word Count: 819

Part two

You have looked in the locker room, the art room and outside in the quad and still can’t find him. You  woke up this morning, put on the cutest outfit you own and spent extra time on your hair and came up with the best plan.. There is no chance he will say no… Right? 

As you walk into the library you finally spot the messy mop of dirty blonde hair. 

“Isaac! Isaac!” You whisper shout as you walk over to where he is sitting in the ground leaning against one of the bookshelves. You don’t know why this wasn’t the first place you looked. This has always been a safe space for Isaac to come to when he needed to get away.

“Y/N! Y/N!” he whispers, shouts back successfully, mocking me with a cocky grin on his lips. 

Laughing, You walk over and drop my bag next to him and it’s a quiet thump. “I had the most perfect idea, and before you say ‘no’ just hear me out?” You ask with a pleading look on your face. Isaac eyes you suspiciously and slowly nods his head for you to continue. 

Isaac and you have been friends since we were six. Your moms were best friends and would force you two to hangout with each other all the time. Even when he thought girls had cooties. He has always been my favorite person and you did everything you could to protect him. When he would get picked on in school you would tell off anyone who was mean to him. When he would get hurt on the playground you would be the first one to help him clean and bandage his wounds. When his mom died and he started coming to school with bruises and cuts that he refused to explain to you, you made sure that your window was always cracked and unlocked for him to climb through.

He said he always felt safe when he was with you. And since you couldn’t do anything about his dad hurting him, you did the best thing you could think of. You were always there for him. He was your best friend after all. 

“So you know how Matt won’t leave me alone? How he asks me out every time he sees me?” You ask nervously while nibbling slightly on your lip. 

Still looking at you with suspicion he shakes his head yes. “Well I was thinking that maybe. You would pretend to be my boyfriend. Just for a day to get him off my back.” You rushed out. Anxious to see his reaction. 

He’s quiet for a moment, before looking at you like you’ve lost my mind. “Are you crazy? He will never believe that.” He laughs nervously. 

Turning towards him you put my hands together and begged the dirty blonde next to you. “Please Isaac. Please, please. I know this will work and you’re my best friend, who better to pretend to date than you?” 

He rolls his eyes “Why can't you ask Scott?” 

“It’s more believable if it’s you. I mean we’ve been best friends forever, half the school thinks there is something going on between us anyways.” You say with a roll of your eyes. 

It's true. Since Isaac and you have been friends for so long, everyone is always bothering you two about when you're going to start dating. It's not that you don't like Isaac that way. You do. You love him, and he has told you he loves you too. But you both agreed that you should stay friends. You are both too important for the other to lose. 

Isaac looks at you seriously. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N.” 

“I really didn't want to do this… But you owe me Isaac Lahey.” His seriousness drops into a look of guilt.  

He did owe you. After he was turned by Derek, and after he accidentally attacked you, you stayed at Dereks with him for weeks, until he found his anchor. Which by the way he still hasn't told you what it is. 

He sighs in defeat. “I meant I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to date you to get him off your back.” Isaac has never been able to say no to your pouty face, and with everything you did for him in the past he grudgingly agrees. 

“Fine, I will help you. Just know that I think this is a horrible idea.” He states with a half smile. Your smile on the other hand is wide and excited. You throw your arms around him in excitement. “Thank you! Thank you!” you cheer, kissing his cheek. 

“Tomorrow, be ready!” You yell getting up and walking out of the library. As he watches you walk away all Isaac can think about is how screwed he is to fake date the love of his life.

*If you’re interested in being on my taglist, please let me know!*

My asks are open for requests!

Masterlist

[crazyk-imagine]

Breaking Hearts and Making Names

Pairing: Nathan Scott x Fem!reader

Characters: Chris Keller, Fem!reader, Nathan Scott, Brooke Davis, Peyton Sawyer, Lucas Scott, Marvin "Mouth" McFadden, Antwon "Skills" Taylor, Haley James (Scott)

Warnings: Fluff, one tree hill funsies, chris keller being a punk, reader taking no shit, brooke and reader being bestie's, the girls needing to rope reader in, reader is kinda like a fem wade wilson, this was kind of random but also not, I love making reader besties with Brooke, this has been in my drafts for a bit, happy to have posted it, lowkey a stupid fic but a fun one

Word Count: 676

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You turn the corner when you hear him flirting with another girl and roll your eyes. You walk towards the stairs to Nathan’s apartment and raise a brow.

"How old are you again?" You cross your arms, staring at him.

Chris turns around and furrows his brows, confused as to what you’re getting at. "What?"

"How old are you? You're not in high school and yet you're preying on young girls, under the age of eighteen might I add which I believe would make you a pervert." You turn to the girl he’s been talking to and lean in, “you can go now.”

She nods and scoots around him so she can leave.

He scoffs, rubbing his face in annoyance. “Chris Keller is offended and not a pervert."

You lean in closer to him, "would you really prefer it if I called you a pedo?"

His eyes widened. "Man, you're cold."

Your shoulders deflate as your eyes soften, "aw, Brooke taught me well." You spin around and catch her gaze as she walks closer to you, throwing her arm around your shoulders.

"I did and I'm so proud."

You both throw your heads back and chuckle.

He shakes his head, watching the two of you take the lead and walk up the stairs to hangout in your boyfriend's apartment but not before adding, "I know you're checking someone out, you pervert. I would say kiss my ass, but you can't so, suck a d-"

Peyton and Haley have never pulled you away from the railing as fast as they have in all their lives while Brooke throws her head back and laughs, clapping her hands to where it sounds like she’s smacking her hands together.

-

The guys get out of the car and walk towards the defeated musician. Nathan glances up when he hears your laughter.

He can’t help but chuckle, knowing you had something to do with Chris’ defeated look. "What happened?"

The musician lifts his head, staring at the youngest Scott boy with a defiant attitude.

Before Nathan decided to officially ask you out and not hide his feelings from you, he made sure to put the infamous Chris Keller in his place.

"The one in your hoodie is mean."

The Scott brother's glance at one another and nod.

"Makes sense," Lucas says.

He and Haley always liked your style and the way you carry yourself, which explains why you’ve been friends with them for as long as you have.

It helps him when the other guys on the team want to try and pick on him or if a certain guy who refers to himself in the third person needs to be put in his place. But the downer for those who come across your mean streak is-

"She and Brooke have been hanging out a lot.”

“We've never known someone to have the same amount of brazen personality as Brooke until they met and, as Brooke likes to say, they “clicked”. I’m surprised you made it as far as you have," Nathan adds.

"She hurt Chris Keller's feelings."

"Something tells me, she doesn't care," Nathan tells him before heading up the stairs.

“Tell your brother to control his girl.”

Lucas shakes his head, “I’d rather not. She can get pretty mean if I try to tell her to do something.”

Mouth and Skills chuckle to themselves as they pass him.

“I wouldn’t take what she means to a heart man,” the latter tells him.

The blond pouts. “How would you take it if she called you a perv?”

“I’m not, so I don’t have to worry about it.”

Mouth nudges his friend in the side, causing him to whine. “What he means is, you should watch what you say, or you get the look.”

“The look?”

Mouth nods, “the look.”

The two walk away from him, leaving him to follow behind and see the infamous look that your friend was talking about.

He chuckles and thanks whatever karma was in his side to prevent him from getting a stare down from you. 

[sherlockggrian]

For the first time in a long time, Grian realizes something.

The people in this world love each other. They care about each other. Grian has spent so long isolating himself, keeping a safe distance from any real alliance, making sure everyone knew they couldn't trust him in the end, because there is always an end, always chaos, and no matter what happens, the only way out is to die. Grian knew that, he still knows that, but for the first time, he can see something else too.

When he presses the button and dies, for a moment he can see everything, all the destruction, the weight of it all. He can see all of the greens and yellows, coming together to defeat the wither, fighting together, not each other, fighting for their lives and their teammates and friends.

Afterwards, they bury Mumbo and Jimmy together. This time it feels different. Grian's killed before. He's killed both Mumbo and Jimmy at his own hands. And he knows it's his fault, this time, too, but it's different because it didn't even matter. For the first time in what feels like years of this game, Grian feels fucking terrible. He's felt guilt before, but never this sort of grief, never this level of horror at what he's created. Because this isn't the usual world of every man for himself, of utter chaos and bloodshed, this is a world where everybody came together, and for the first time, Grian starts to understand why Scott still believes in love, and hope.

And the watchers hate it. They hate what they've always hated about Grian - that he's still human.

[annwrites]

a house in hawkins. part five.

— pairing: billy hargrove x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: a local boxing match is held in town, & afterward, you have the worst night of your life.

— tw: rape, suicidal ideation

— word count: 7,931

— tag list: @stoneyweezin @ganjas-shit

You ride with Scott to the fight, staying pressed up against his side the whole way over to the local rec center where it's being held. It's just amateur boxing—bare fists only—with only three weight classes and four contestants in each.

Winners in each weight class will go up against each other after defeating their initial opponents, and whoever wins gets—what you assume will be—a cheap belt to show off, and bragging rights. 

Scott is going to be fighting for the heavyweight title, which makes heat pool in your core. Just the thought of him shirtless and throwing fists with another man had gotten him lucky before the two of you headed over. 

You wrap your arms around his own that’s not atop the wheel and just stare at him, making his lip twitch.

“Somethin’ on your mind?”

You drag his hand between your thighs and he chuckles. “Again?”

“Do you want to pull over somewhere?”

He grins. “I’d love nothing more, sweetheart, but you’re going to make me late if you keep it up.”

You keep his hand in-place, but don’t push it any further. You’d only been joking, anyway.

Well, half-joking.

“I want you to know that no matter what happens, even if you lose, that I’m really proud of you just for trying. Putting yourself out there.”

He smiles. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You wonder how he doesn’t seem nervous. You're beyond jittery on his behalf. Worried something will go wrong and he’ll end up seriously injured, if not having to be taken to a hospital. But he’d told you that they would have medical care, and an ambulance as well, on standby tonight just incase. But he was sure he’d be fine.

You prayed for as much.

When he pulls into the parking lot, the place is already packed with people milling about, generally having a good time, and having little tailgate parties before the fighting begins.

You smile, feeling excited.

“There’s the big man!” Joe calls as you and Scott get closer to his truck, which has an open cooler sitting upon the tailgate, numerous tallboys sitting on ice inside of it. 

You release Scott’s hand, so he and Joe can embrace with smiles and laughs. 

You glance to your left and see that Travis is here as well. He smiles at you, and you do the same in return. 

Rhett is absent, but you’re not wholly surprised. He’d been making himself more distant from the group for awhile. Now, you supposed, you understood why.

You really do wish him all the best once he leaves for Indianapolis. You're sure he’ll make the most of it.

You then turn your full attention back to Scott, pressing yourself up against his backside, wrapping your arms around his middle and closing your eyes, smiling warmly at the feel of him; the rumble of his voice through his back as he speaks to the other guys about tonight.

Finally, he turns back to you, cupping your face in his hands. He leans down, crushing his lips to yours. 

When he pulls away, you beam up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I love you. And I’m proud of you either way,” you remind him.

He smiles, kissing you one last time before heading inside. 

You watch as he disappears into the crowd, only then turning back to the rest of them, watching as Joe retrieves another beer, popping the tab on it before taking a long drink, his eyes trailing along your tight body. 

You’d done your hair in braids again, worn jean shorts that hugged your waist, and a black Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirt that was cut into fringes at the bottom, a pair of flip-flops on your feet, numerous bracelets on your wrists.

You glance to Travis and see that he’s already looking at you as well, smiling.

You step closer to him, desperate to have his hands on you instead of Joe’s. 

You smile up at him. “Hi.”

He runs his knuckles along your cheek. “Hi, baby.”

“Is your friend coming?”

He raises a brow. “Already got your eyes on Cy, huh?”

You smile, laughing lightly. “No, I was just curious. I just figured if you were here, he would be, too.”

He nods toward the direction behind you. “Well, looks like you’re in luck.”

You glance behind you for only a moment to see Cyrus climbing out of an older model Chevy Impala; sleek and black and shiny. 

You then turn back to Travis. “He kind of scares me a little.”

“He can seem intimidating at first. But once you get to know him, you’ll see that he’s a pretty laid-back guy.”

You step closer to him, pressing your hands against his chest. “Like you?”

He smiles. “Difference is, I’m also fun.”

“Oh, really?”

“What?” He asks, gesturing toward himself. “You think I’m all work and no play?”

You shrug, studying him with a smile. 

He turns around then, bending at the knees. “Hop on.”

You laugh. “What? On your back? Are you serious?”

“Yeah, it’s a pretty serious piggyback.”

You step closer, gripping his shoulders, then hop up and wrap your legs around his waist. His arms support you under your calves, hands clasping at the fingers as you wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself securely in-place as he stands straight once again. 

Honestly, being wrapped around him makes you feel just the least bit more secure since you’re going to be around Cyrus in just a moment. 

Travis turns his head to the right. “You good?”

You nod. “Mhm.”

He pretends to consider for a moment. “I don’t know. Maybe I should readjust.”

He pretends to drop you for a moment, quickly bending down, loosening his hands and you squeal, laughing, hugging yourself closer to him. “No, stop!”

“Yes? Was that a yes?” He does it again.

“Travis!”

Joe jumps into the playful banter. “I don’t know. Think those shorts need adjustin’. What do you think, honey?”

He walks around behind you, squeezing your ass cheeks in both of his hands, humming his approval at the feel. You just laugh louder. “Joe!” 

You playfully kick off a flip-flop and then another and he chuckles, giving you a firm smack before retrieving both, stuffing them in one of his back pockets.

Travis then whirls you one way, then the other, and he pauses for a moment as Cyrus comes over. 

And then you spot him across the lot, watching you. 

Billy.

You can’t make out his expression. It seems…unreadable. You wonder if he’s ashamed of you. 

And then you think of your conversation from yesterday. That you’d warned him of this, so he’s aware of what’s going on. Why you’re…this girl tonight.

That this—this moment of your eyes meeting—is you saying hi; that you can’t wait to be with him again. And he’s replying; telling you that he sees you. Not the you you’re giving the boys this evening to make them happy. The you from the house. Your house—as in both of you. 

Travis whirls you back in the other direction, Billy disappearing from your line-of-sight.

You glance to Cyrus and he watches you with dark eyes, only a nearly-undetectable smirk upon his lips.

Music then blares from the entrance of the rec center—Saturday Night Special, even if it is Friday—and the boys turn in that direction. 

Joe quickly shuts his cooler, pushing it further back on the bed of his truck before slamming the tailgate up and the four of you make your way inside.

Your seats are nearly ringside, and, even if you have a ticket, meaning you have a seat, Joe just pulls you onto his lap instead. You bite back a groan and an eye-roll at the gesture as he bounces his thigh under you, wrapping an arm around your waist, his hand settling atop your thigh.

You just instead smile like a happy little idiot, and he seems pleased. 

You drown out the conversation between he and Travis and Cyrus while you glance around, pretending to just people-watch, when in reality, you’re trying to spot Billy.

And then you do. In the nosebleeds. You nearly feel guilty at your far-superior seats.

You see him before he sees you, but when he does, he merely greets you with a gentle nod and you just blink at him in response, before turning back around. You hate that you can’t even give him a smile, but God-forbid one of the guys are watching you while you watch him and you don’t know it, and then questions start getting asked.

You’re doing it to protect him.

It’s perhaps ten minutes later before someone comes onto a microphone, welcoming everyone to the event and stating that the first fight will commence in another ten minutes, essentially telling the crowd that now is the time to go to the restrooms and concessions if they so need it. 

You turn back to Joe. “I think I’m going to run to the restroom.”

He nods. “Grab me a couple beers while you’re up, honey.”

You stand on bare feet, waiting as he retrieves his wallet, and then handing you a five. “I’m going to grab a pretzel, too.”

He nods. “Just use the change from the Buds.” 

You stuff the money into your pocket, then stare at him with a soft smile. 

He smirks. “Somethin’ else you need?”

“My shoes.”

He crosses his arms. “And what do I get?”

You lean in toward him, gripping the back of his chair with one hand and you can just feel the other two’s eyes on your ass. “I’m getting you your beer, aren’t I?”

He smirks. “Alright.” He slips your shoes from his back pocket, setting them on the floor and you grip his shoulder for a moment as you slip them on. 

Just as you go to head out, Cyrus stands. “I’ll go with you. Grab something myself.”

You smile and nod, heading out into the bustling crowd of people grabbing snacks and making last-minute bathroom breaks. You head in the direction of the lady’s room, quickly giving yourself a once-over in the mirror before relieving yourself and heading back out…to find Cyrus leaning against a wall, waiting for you with crossed arm.

You blush. “You didn’t have to wait.”

He shrugs, pushing off the wall. “It’s fine.”

You follow him to the concessions and have to assure the young man running it that the beer is indeed not for you, until Cyrus grabs the cash from your hand, shoving it in his direction and telling him to give you whatever the hell you want.

And he does.

You turn back to Cyrus. “Thank you,” you say sweetly.

He wraps an arm around your shoulders, taking a sip of his own beer. “You got it.”

You know by this touch alone that he already has his eyes on having you next. You wonder what all Travis has told him about you. Or Scott when they went out drinking.

You return to your seat in Joe's lap and wait for the first fight to start.

During Scott's match against his opponent, you, along with the rest of the guys, had cheered him onto victory. You'd stood for most of it, breath caught in your throat as you watched him; his body, his footwork, feeling every blow he took yourself, clenching your hands tightly against your chest, gasping each time he ended up close to the rope, terrified he was about to get pinned.

But he always got out of it, and then you'd screamed in happiness—relief—as the other man finally fell. One more round—Scott against the other heavyweight fighter that had also beaten his opponent—and then the fighting as a whole would be over.

He would be able to leave—to go home. He was going to be just fine. Just one more round and it would be done.

One more.

There's a brief intermission, so you run out to grab Joe a couple more beers, and yourself a small bag of gummy bears.

Cyrus follows you out, pulling you over to the side once you've made your purchases.

You stare up at him with a pleasant smile, hoping he doesn't notice just how on-edge he makes you feel.

"Heard a lot about you," he says, eyes flitting between yours.

"Oh?"

"Mhm," he says, a muscle in his jaw feathering.

"Like what?" You ask, taking a tiny step closer.

He smirks. "Scott told me a few things I think I'd be interested in finding out for myself."

Hearing him mention Scott in this context makes your stomach twist. You just blink up at him.

He reaches up, running the pad of his thumb along your lower lip. "Like all the things this mouth can do. Just how wet you get without any effort, always ready to be fu-"

You hear the announcer come over the microphone, informing everyone that the match will begin in less than two minutes.

Cyrus drops his hand and you feel your heart hammering, but are glad this moment is now at an end.

You make your way silently past him, back to the row the both of you are seated in, and Travis reaches over, grabbing your hand, pulling you into his lap now.

You easily wrap an arm around his neck, preferring him to Joe, who's now on his way to getting drunk.

He slides a hand along your thigh, settling it there and softly smiling at you. "You look really good tonight, baby."

You turn toward him and smile in return, pressing a kiss to his nose. "Thank you."

You then reach into your bag of candy, holding a gummy bear up to his mouth. "Want one?"

He opens and you place it on his tongue and he chews.

You hear the bell ring just as you're gently brushing your thumb along the corner of his lips, his eyes staying trained on your own, and then Joe stands up so quickly from his chair that he nearly knocks the thing over as you hear him yell "beat his fuckin' ass, Scotty!"

You jerk your head back in the direction of the ring, just in time to see Scott punching his new opponent without mercy, like he's suddenly fighting in a black rage.

You don't think you've ever seen him so angry before.

The man falls, and Scott gets on top of him, pounding away with his right fist, blood flying. You cover your mouth, worried he's about to kill him, until the referee pulls him off of him just in time, the bell dinging over and over again, signaling that it's over.

All you can think about is how...if the tables had been turned...

The referee holds up Scott's right fist, deeming him the winner of the match by knockout, and you stand, squealing, cheering.

He turns to you and you throw a probable rule that you're not allowed in the ring to the side as you climb up and jump into his arms, crushing your lips to his, running your fingers through his sweaty hair, pouring every ounce of love that you have into the embrace.

You'd been right in Scott being awarded a belt, but it'd been just the least bit nicer than you'd previously expected. Gold and red and black details, a pair of fists holding a banner between them that state 'Hawkins Heavyweight Champion '84' as the design.

Scott leaves the arena with the rest of you with the belt slung over one shoulder, you holding tightly to his opposite arm, staring up at him, completely infatuated.

You were so glad he was okay. A black eye, and some swelling in the face, but other than that he was just fine. Perfect.

Your whole world.

The four of you stand in the parking lot near Joe's truck—Cyrus having already left, due to needing to be at work soon for a late shift—talking and drinking and joking. Scott gets numerous congrats from passer-bys, while you cling to his right hand, holding ice to it as you just stare and stare, in disbelief that this man—he—is all yours.

You're so enamored that you hardly notice that he barely bothers looking at you in return; speaking to you.

Nor do you see the glare he eventually gives Travis.

Joe glances to you with a smirk and you decide you don't like the look on his face, your stomach twisting. "What'd'ya say the three of us get outta here and go have ourselves some fun?"

You blanch. He'd had far too much to drink tonight. Did he want Scott to put him on a stretcher next?

You lean back against the truck, staring up at Scott, waiting for him to shoot Joe's offer down promptly, but he just stares back at you.

Your brows furrow for only a moment. Why wasn't he...

You look down then, shrugging. "I'm not really in the mood right now."

Scott scoffs and your head shoots up. "Guarantee that's bullshit. Maybe I should check."

He shoves his free hand down the front of your shorts, plunging two fingers between your folds and you gasp in shock, wrenching his hand out and he just laughs at you.

He laughs.

He turns to Joe. "Oh, she's definitely in the fuckin' mood, man."

Your eyes sting. Maybe...maybe it was the adrenaline from the fight. Testosterone could make men act...different. Right?

They both turn back to you and Joe leans in toward you, resting an arm atop the side of the truck's bed. "His place or mine, honey?"

You look to Scott again. He can't...he can't be serious. He's never done this before—shared you with another man. When you had sex, it was just the two of you. No one else got to be involved in such intimate moments.

"Isn't your wife home?" You ask, barely turning to look at him.

"Mine it is, then," Scott replies.

Joe chuckles, looking at you. "You ridin' with him or me, then?"

You don't reply before heading in the direction of Scott's truck. You needed to talk to him. This wasn't happening. It...it couldn't.

Not this. Please, not this.

Once you're both inside the cab and the engine roars to life, you turn to him. "What...what're you doing? We-"

"Heading to my place to have a threesome, or were you not payin' attention?"

He looks behind the both of you as he backs out of the lot.

Your eyes sting again. "We don't do that. When we're together, it's just us. Please. Please don't. I don't want-"

He peels out of the parking lot, heading in the direction of his trailer. "You want to ruin a good night? Think I deserve a reward after the fight. You about to tell the both of us no?"

He barely glances to you before looking toward the road again.

Your chin wobbles. "Why're you acting like this all of a sudden? I thought you were happy? I don't understand. I...I don't want to. Please, Scott. Just...tell him you changed your mind. You're tired or don't feel well, or-"

"Feel just fuckin' fine. Great, actually. But you keep runnin' your mouth and you'll just ruin it."

Your lip trembles. "I...I love you."

He stays silent.

"I don't want to. Please, Scotty, I love you. We can, if you want. Just...not with him. I'll do whatever you want-"

"Then you'll do this."

"But-"

"Stop fuckin' whinin', Jesus."

A tear slips down your cheek. He's never acted like before. Never. Had...did he have a concussion?

"Are you sure you feel okay? You don't seem like yourself."

"Never been more clear," he spits back at you. "Sorry Trav' couldn't tag along. I'm sure you'd be jumpin' for fuckin' joy if he was to be the third instead."

Your brows furrow. "What? What're you talking about?"

"I saw you. Both of you. Siting in his lap. Just...fuckin' staring at each other. Guess you need a reminder of who you belong to."

Your bowels turn to water. "That was nothing. That's all I did was sit in his lap for a minute or two. I...I had been sitting on Joe's all night. You didn't seem to have a problem with that?"

He shakes his head. "Joe's a different case and you know it."

What was happening right now?

"Scott, I told you: I love you. Only you. Please, don't punish me like this for...for sitting on his lap. I haven't done anything-"

He pulls up outside his trailer, Joe already having parked, waiting on the porch with a smug look.

Scott exits the cab, coming around to your side and opening your door.

"Please, Scott, I don't want to. Please, I'm begging-"

He grabs your upper arm, squeezing so hard that it hurts and he pulls you from the cab, causing you to stumble before he grabs you again. "You forget who's fucking in-charge around here? You do as you're told. And you're about to."

Joe grunts from between your legs, hands sliding up your thighs, Scott's cock buried in your mouth as you suck silently, praying it'll all be over soon.

It feels like you're watching yourself from afar as you let them have at it, doing as they wish. Whatever will please them.

What you want doesn't matter.

Maybe it never did.

Joe chuckles as Scott grips the back of your head, forcing himself deeper and you gag, unable to breathe. He moans, bucking his hips.

Joe slaps your clit, then circling it with his thumb and your body jerks, betraying you.

He looks to Scott, grinning. "Sure did teach her how to suck fuckin' cock, though, didn't I?"

Scott pulls out for just a moment, leaving you gasping for breath before he shoves himself back in. "Damn straight."

"Fuckin' fourteen was the first time I had her on 'er knees. Gotta start 'em young," he says and they both laugh.

You feel sick.

How could he do this to you? Punish you like this for simply sitting on Travis' lap? Did you really deserve this?

You think him beating you within an inch of your life like he had his opponent to be a kinder punishment.

Scott pulls his cock out, slapping it against your face, humiliating you. "Open up, sweetheart. I got somethin' to keep that mouth quiet."

Using his name for you...like that... How could he?

You do as you're told. Like always. And you open.

Joe rams himself between your legs, making you gag against Scott, whimpering in pain. And he does it again, his skin slapping against yours.

"Who's daddy's good little slut? That you, honey?"

Scott looks down at you, smirking. "Think her mouth's too full to answer right now. Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

It feels like another kick to the stomach.

He pulls his cock out, stroking it as he positions his testicles over your mouth. "Think the family jewels need some attention. Why don't you polish 'em up for me?"

You gently take one into your mouth—causing his cock to twitch—and then the other. You gently lick, and suck, before Scott eases back in, grabbing the hair at the back of your head painfully. "Take it. All of it."

Tears sting your eyes as you struggle to breathe once again. You stare up at Scott, desperate for him to make it stop, but he won't even look at you.

This is what you've always been to him, isn't it? A thing. A possession. A toy.

Not a human being. Not a girl in love. Not a young woman, desperate for a different life.

You were going to die in this town. You could see it now so clearly. A horrible truth that had always been there, just waiting for you to see it.

Joe begins to moan and he breaks his condom, finishing all over your stomach, then laughing. "Woo! That's some damn fine fuckin' pussy, ain't it, Scotty? Trained just how we like it."

Scotty slips himself out of your mouth. "Guess it's my turn now."

They trade places, Joe tossing his used condom to the side as he plunges himself into your mouth, Scotty slipping himself into your cunt and you finally go away somewhere else in your mind, unable to take anymore as you feel your heart shatter.

He never loved you.

Never.

This fact...discovering it—it's the last straw. The only thing you had left to hold onto to keep you going was now gone. Forever.

You find yourself underwater, in the pond by the house, staring up at the sun from under gentle ripples of blue and green, flowers floating on the surface, even your dolls bob around you. Everything is muffled and quiet.

No more pain. No more sadness. No more anything.

You open, breathing the water in, letting it fill your lungs. One mouthful, then another and another.

At least you can choose this much; your death. How you leave this world to find another of kindness and gentility.

No one can ever touch or hurt or use you again.

You're free.

Or, at least, you will be.

You retch on the side of the road, your head now feeling fuzzy and your senses unfocused. You've never felt so distant from your own body before. You feel about a mile away, watching yourself slowly break.

This would be the last one. The last night.

You saw it now. Him. For what he is. For what so many others had told you he was. What's he's been all along.

Why hadn't you listened again?

Oh, right, love. That.

It doesn't exist anyway. At least you know that now. It'll make letting go easier.

You take in a slow breath, eyes burning, a sore feeling between your legs. Scott had done it again. He hadn't used a condom.

You and your baby would die together.

You stumble, clutching onto a tree, staring up at the silver moon in the sky, wondering if it sees you. Cares.

Perhaps that's where you'll go when you take that last breath and blink and swallow—into the stars.

At least you won't be alone there.

You hear tires slowly rolling along asphalt and you squint against the headlights blinding your vision, until the driver switches them off and you see that it's a cruiser.

Travis. He...could he help you?

Save me, please. Oh, God, help me.

It's put into park, the driver exiting.

Cyrus.

He smirks, taking you in. "You lost, hon'?"

You merely stare at him, realizing: no one is coming.

He shuts his door, heading around to you.

You get a sinking feeling in your stomach. Maybe you're going to be sick again.

He tips your head back, looking down at you. "Been thinking about you all night."

You don't reply.

He raises a brow. "Hard to get, hm? That's alright, I can work with that." He glances around. This stretch of road doesn't receive much traffic this late at night. Meaning you'll have privacy.

He looks back to you. "How about you finally give me a taste? Heard a lot about it. Maybe I'll finally see for myself what all the fuss is about."

He pulls you in the direction of his cruiser, then pushes you face-first down against the hood. You don't bother trying to fight back. Not anymore.

You rest your cheek against the warm metal, closing your eyes.

You hear a belt being thrown onto the hood next to you, then another being unclasped, a zipper being pulled down.

Next, your shorts are tugged down your hips, your legs—you'd lost your underwear somewhere. You couldn't remember where now.

And then he pushes inside of you, pressing a palm against the side of your head, the other gripping your hip painfully as your toes lift off the ground.

All is silent tonight, minus the sounds of frogs and crickets and his grunting behind you.

You barely even feel it anymore. Notice. They're all the same. All men. It's like they're one homogenous being that seek, hunt, thirst for, and eventually take one thing.

Take, because it's not nearly as good when it is freely—willingly offered. They hunt their prey, striking a killing blow between its legs.

Maybe it's what they survive off of—sex. No.

Fear.

He grips both your hips then, driving into you from behind, bucking wildly. You wince in pain, silent tears slipping from your tired eyes.

And then he finishes, crying out loudly, twitching between your walls, his hot cum leaking out of you.

Twice now. It had happened twice.

He stumbles back, pulling his pants back up, situating himself.

You lie there for a moment and then you realize you're supposed to move. Supposed to be doing something.

You stand straight then, and watch from a distance as you pull your shorts back up, even as he continues to run down your leg.

You don't look at him when he speaks, saying something about 'seeing what they're all so fuckin' crazy for now' and 'sorry, but I don't do rubbers, hon', he throws in that he 'hopes you're on something'.

You strip down naked once you reach the house, numbly walking outside, off of the porch and toward the pond, ready to make it stop.

You've nearly reached the edge, you can hear the water lapping, can feel something waiting for you, and then you feel a hand wrap around your wrist.

Not again.

Please.

Not again.

Not here.

You stare up blankly at a familiar face. Pretty. Curls. Long lashes.

He's speaking to you, but you don't hear him. You know what he wants. There's no use in fighting. You'll just give it to him. And then he'll let you go.

You reach toward his belt, quickly undoing it, cupping his penis over his jeans.

He backs away from you then and your senses clear, even minimally.

"What're you doing?"

You blink at him, your face blank. "It's ok. I can do it one more time."

You take a step toward him and his brows furrow. "What-"

"I know this is what you want. I see how you look at me. We should just do it." Another step. "I'm really good at it, too. Giving blowjobs. Gave my first one at fourteen. You don't have to use a condom."

"Stop."

"Do you want to know what I did tonight? Maybe it'll turn you on. A threesome. They said I was good. And then he fucked me on the hood of his cruiser. Three in one night is a new record for me. Maybe we can make it four."

The look on his face is that of horrification. What had they done to you?

You reach for his zipper, ready to get on your knees, or on your back, your stomach.

Whatever he wants.

Doesn't matter if you do.

And then he cups your face in his hands, his eyes searching desperately to find you still in there.

"Fuck me," you whisper.

His throat bobs. "This isn't you. This isn't my girl."

Your lip twitches. "C'mon, there's a mattress inside. We can-"

He shakes his head. "No. This isn't you. Come back to me."

You try to press your naked body to his. He'll like that.

He continues looking at you, refusing to avert his eyes. He won't look away from it—from you. He refuses. He won't let you carry this alone. Won't leave you. Because, if he does, he'll return to you lying dead in a watery grave.

"This is the you they want. Not me. I know the real you. I want her back."

You stare at him in silence.

And then you break, your face crumpling.

"It was...so horrible," you choke out through sobs.

He quickly shrugs off his jacket, wrapping it around your naked form, then holding you to him.

"I didn't want to!" You scream against his chest.

He cups the back of your head, your body trembling so hard it's shaking his own. God, what had they done to you?

You clutch yourself to him, terrified that if you let go, you'll be swallowed whole by the black hole that now surrounds you. Or, perhaps, you are it.

A gaping void of nothing.

Billy reaches down, picking you up bridal-style, carrying you back to his car.

"I'm taking you some place safe."

Doesn't he know?

Nowhere is safe. Not anymore.

Hot water beats down on you from above and you watch as a stream of blood flows down the drain from between your legs. It's not your period.

You shut your eyes, resting your cheek atop your bent knees, wrapping your arms more tightly around them, making yourself as small as possible.

Maybe you'd been asking for it. Look at the way you'd dressed tonight; acted. Giggling and touching them, letting them touch you. Just like they always do.

They didn't know any better, because this—rather, that—was all they've ever known. At least with you, that is.

You wonder if they're thinking about it right now with a feeling of guilt. If they feel as empty as you do. Completely hopeless.

What do you have that's worth going on for now? How, in a few hours, had your entire world fell out from under your feet?

And you just kept falling.

Your chin wobbles, and you squeeze your eyes shut more tightly.

Not all men.

That's what they say, isn't it? When it's implied that all any of them think about is sex.

You want to believe Billy is different. He could've so easily done anything he wanted to you just an hour ago. Instead, he'd not even been hard from the naked sight of you. He'd looked into your eyes, not at your body. Had spoken to your soul, not your ears.

He saw you. And he hadn't turned away at the hideous, broken sight.

Was life worth giving one last try, then?

For what, though? You'd trusted Scott. Had worshiped him. And then he had betrayed you.

Judas.

You resolve in the moment, knowing: he'll pay.

You'll have to use and hurt another to do it, but that's fine. Because he deserves it, too. They all do.

You'd merely become a product of their own creation. Now, you would finally come to life.

You stir the chicken and broccoli Billy had made you for dinner idly around your plate while he sits across from you, watching.

"Do you want me to make you something else?" He asks softly.

You look at him, having forgotten he was even there, lost in your own mind. You look around the kitchen for a moment, then back to him. "This is your house."

He's wondering if he shouldn't take you to a hospital.

"Yes."

You gently grip the t-shirt he'd given you to wear for tonight, then run your hand along the soft sweatpants that were too big for you that were also his. "It's nice."

You take a very, very small bite of your food, chewing for a long time before swallowing.

"Thank you," he replies quietly. "It still needs a lot of work, but I'm doing what I can."

He doesn't give a shit about the house right now, but if he can get you to talk at all—he doesn't give a damn what the conversation is about.

You nod, taking another bite.

He wants to ask you to tell him what happened tonight exactly, but knows it'll ruin what little appetite you seem to have just found. So he holds off, watching as you take a sip of water.

"You can take my bed tonight to sleep in." He says with a small smile, reassuring you that it's okay; he won't be joining you.

You look at him, surprised. He...isn't going to send you back there? You aren't sure it was ever a home for you.

"Where will you-"

He jerks his head toward the living room behind him, off of the kitchen. "I have a pullout couch."

"Then I should-"

He shakes his head. "It's okay, really." His lip twitches. "The truth is, sometimes I sleep on it just so I can stay up watching TV."

Lie. The only time he watches TV is when he's eating dinner in there. And even that was only occasionally.

You nod. "Oh."

You eat the rest of your meal in silence.

You toss and turn in Billy's bed—he'd even put clean sheets on it while you'd washed your dishes; you'd insisted on doing at least that much, even if he'd told you he would get to them once you were in bed for the night—for nearly half-an-hour before you finally relent, knowing you'll never fall asleep like this. Alone.

You don't want to close your eyes.

You quietly pad toward the direction of the living room, hoping Billy is still awake. You assume so, since the TV is casting colors of blue and green and red across the walls. You're in luck when you see him leaned back against the cushions, remote in-hand, his other arm resting atop his head, which he lowers to his side when he sees you.

He should've kept a shirt on. What if seeing him even half-undressed made you uncomfortable?

He fears are quickly assuaged.

"Can...can I sleep with you? I'm..." Tears sting your eyes. "I'm scared."

His face falls, his heart breaking on your behalf. "Of course you can."

He pulls back the covers and you step closer, glancing to him and he gives you a kind smile, reassuring you that it's okay—he won't touch you—and you crawl in next to him.

You're the one who touches him then, curling against his side, desperate to be held by someone safe.

He wraps an arm around you, then his other. "Is this okay?" He whispers.

You nod. And then hot tears begin to fall.

You press your face into his chest, crying quietly and his hand comes up, fingertips rubbing the back of your head.

"You're safe now. It's okay. You can feel whatever you need to feel. Cry, scream. Whatever you need. I'm here."

You whimper, curling your body against his.

"Will...will you tell me what happened? Everything seemed fine during, until that guy lost it. Scott?"

You sniffle, raising your head, curling your fingers around the blanket settled overtop the both of you. "He...he saw me sitting in Travis' lap. He got...so angry. After, in the parking lot, Joe..." You grow quiet again for a moment, trying to swallow down the lump in your throat so you can continue.

You take a deep breath, calming yourself. "He suggested a threesome. I looked to Scott to tell him no. He...didn't. I begged him not to. That I didn't want to. He did it to punish me. Said I needed to remember my place. So they did it. Scott didn't use a condom."

You sob quietly. "I left and then Cyrus—one of the cops—found me. He bent me over the hood of his car. I just let him. I didn't want to fight anymore. Not that I ever do. I let it happen. He didn't use anything, either."

He fights down his rage. He doesn't want you to see him angry. Not for a moment. You'd leave, and then God only knows what would happen to you next.

"What were you about to do when I found you?"

You press your forehead against his shoulder, crying. "I wanted to end it."

He doesn't need you to elaborate as to what 'it' is supposed to mean.

You continue. "I wanted to make it stop. It hurts. I hurt. I don't know if I can...take anymore. I thought he cared. About me. I was so stupid. So stupid."

You cry harder then, remembering. You don't want to remember. Don't want to feel their hands on you—their...body parts inside of your own. You hate him now. Well and truly.

There would be no forgiveness for this. He had finally gone too far.

All because you sat on a man's lap that he dislikes. The punishment didn't fit the crime. Not that it should even be considered that. You had done nothing wrong. Right...?

Billy pulls you closer. "I'm so sorry, angel. You need to understand that it wasn't your fault. It never has been. Nothing you've done warranted any of this. They were the ones that knew better; were supposed to do better by you. You didn't deserve it."

He pulls back, cupping your cheek, looking at you. "Do you understand?"

You shrug, lip trembling. "I'm a worthless whore. I'm so disgusting. Unclean."

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to your own. "You are anything but. You are so bright and kind and full of life and hope and warmth. You're a dreamer. Don't let go of that. Don't let them win. Because, if you do, their lives go on, while you've chosen to cut your own short for people that just do not matter.

"You're so young. And you have everything ahead of you. Maybe it's hard to see that now. It was for me, too. I get it. I was in a dark place for a time. A really long fucking time, and I couldn't see a way out. I never thought I'd have a home of my own, or a halfway-decent job."

He pulls back, brushing tears away from your cheeks. "Or that I'd find you. But I did. So, stay. If not for me, then for you. Just...lean on me. I can handle it. Can shoulder it. Whatever the fuck you need, give it to me and I'll carry it instead."

You burst into tears then, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face in it.

And he just holds you, telling you that you're safe now. Over and over again.

The house is quiet, the living room dark, apart from a lamp in the hallway casting a soft orange glow. You'd asked Billy to turn a nightlight on. You were afraid of the dark now. At least for tonight.

He'd not mocked you for it. Hadn't rolled his eyes or complained. He'd simply asked which one you would like best and you'd chosen one with blue flowers painted on the glass shade.

You roll onto your side, your hand resting atop his warm bicep. "Are you awake?" You whisper.

"I am."

You're quiet for a moment, then you whisper. "You saved my life."

His eyes sting from unshed tears. "Just...promise me that if you ever think about that again, you'll come to me first. Or call. In the morning, I can give you my home and work phones. I don't care what time it is, or what day. If you need me, I will be there."

No one had ever been so reliable for you before. Or kind. No one.

"Thank you."

He rests a hand atop yours, curling his fingers around it; you can feel the warm metal of his ring.

"I can't stop thinking about it," your voice begins to raise. You don't want to cry again. You're so exhausted.

He turns on his side, resting a palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter closed.

"Tell me about the house. What you would do if you had unlimited funds; an army of workers."

You reach out, pressing your fingertips against the soft skin of his chest, smiling, your eyes opening. "Cut the grass, for one."

He chuckles.

"Maybe plant some more trees. Lemon and cherry and pear. And I would put flowers and bushes all around the house, which would have a big wrap-around porch. And planter boxes on the windows, once they've been replaced, of course. And maybe have the windmill repainted; the rusted parts replaced. Some bird feeders hanging along the porch, a bird bath in the front yard."

You hum, thinking. "The porch would have sitting areas throughout, and swings in the front and back, maybe one on the side. Lanterns for at night. And on the inside, I would have the wood floors polished and re-stained, the chimney cleaned out and a small pile of wood for cool evenings kept near it.

"I would tear down all the wallpaper and repaint all the walls white and blue and cream instead. New furniture. The only thing that would stay would be my nesting dolls."

He grins.

"Oh, and the outside shutters would be blue, too. The house would be painted white. So, that way, it would match inside and out. And the kitchen would have marble countertops and backsplash. And a rack for pots and pans would hang from the ceiling."

He doesn't see it, but you're gesturing with your hands as you paint him a picture of your dream home.

"And lots of little spice jars on a rack, and I would grow herbs in pots on the windowsill. And there would be sugar, and flour, and tea, and coffee..." You trail off.

"The dining room would have a nice new table, and chairs. Maybe even a tea-set. China. Fine China. And a hutch cabinet full of pretty dishes. And the stairs and banisters would have to be re-done. For the bathroom upstairs, I think I would keep the tub, so long as it can be restored. Everything else can be replaced with white porcelain. And a medicine cabinet for storage could be mounted above the floating sink."

You consider what you would do with the room all the furniture had been stored in, then smile. "The next room would be my own personal library. Every wall would be lined with ceiling-high bookshelves. And there would be rugs and plants and a rocking chair in front of the window. Maybe I'd get a cat."

He smiles at that, pulling you closer.

"The master bedroom would have a big, fluffy king-size bed with a canopy, and I'd have a nice dresser with a big mirror atop it. Matching bedside tables with Victorian lamps atop them. And there would be a balcony off of the room, with chairs on it for sitting in the evenings. Glass doors, and gossamer curtains hanging on the inside."

You grow quiet when you consider the final room.

"And the last one?" He asks.

You know what the first idea that pops into your mind is. Even if that'll never be you; if you'll never have that. Not that you should.

You're the last woman on Earth who should ever consider such a thing. But this moment is for dreaming. About the life you want, even if it's one you know you'll never have.

"A crib. And a mobile. Toys and stuffed animals and soft lights and soft things. And if it was a girl, no man would ever touch her except her father. So long as he was a good man. If not, I have a large yard and a shovel. And no one will ever find him. Ever."

He doesn't smile or laugh. Nor do you.

"That sounds like a beautiful dream," he says, fingers curling around your side.

You wrap your hands around his arm, slowly closing your eyes. "It is. Maybe...I'll find someone to share it with one day."

He closes his as well. "Maybe you already have," he replies softly.

You fall asleep with a smile upon your lips, and warmth in your heart.

A feeling of safety wrapped around you. A feeling...which has a name.

Billy.

[heart-over-heart]

Alright I've been thinking about this for days now and I need to get it out. So here's some thiam analysis? headcannon? I guess.

Cannon s6 Liam feels guilty about what they did to Theo. It haunts him. /Thats/ why he brings him back. Sure. They need Theo. But do they? Can Theo be useful? Definitely, but can they beat the wild hunt without him, very probably. maybe. But Liam has been haunted by Theo being dragged under the earth, literally crying and screaming to be helped. And all of a sudden, to Liam, Theo was no longer this inhuman, psychopath. Liams final image of Theo is extremely human. Theo was terrified and it's such a different version of him from what they had all seen. And. Liam is a good person. He cares about people, even people who hurt him (see: brett). So, yeah. It haunts Liam, so he finds a reason to bring Theo back. And when he does, he has to hope he's doing the right thing. He has to hope that Theo can be better because otherwise Liam was wrong and they have to send him back and so he just keeps hoping Theo will prove him right. "He's my responsibility"

And then Theo? Yes, our boy absolutely just falls head first for the first person in ages to know what he is (a monster) and still stick up for him. Even if Liam is just trying to use Theo (at first), he's giving Theo a chance, which is more than anyone else will give him. Then after things calm down and they defeat the wild hunt and Theo spends months(?) homeless with nothing but time to think and reflect, he won't admit it, but he starts to regret or feel guilty. The weight of the people he's murdered closes in on him. Just a bit. Just enough to consider wanting to do better. And he starts with Liam, the person who first gave him a chance. He saves Liam from killing Nolan and Gabe for two reasons 1) he doesnt want someone else to live with that guilt of murder and 2) he knows what he did to Liam. He manipulated Liam into almost killing someone (not just someone, Scott) and now he understands how fucked up that was. So he does everything in his power to keep Liam from crossing that line. He tries to teach him to control his anger so Liam doesnt risk accidentally going too far. "You didn't kill him. That's progress."

I just. There is literally so much about their dynamic that is fascinating and so much to dig into. Like, yes they definitely seem to be starting to develop feelings for each other, but it doesn't start there. It starts with guilt and then they find more and more in common.

[christinesficrecs]

Hi Christine, I know this is a long shot but long story short - lost my saves file a while ago and cannot find many of most favourite fics, I have countless quotes saved from them. I am sharing some with you in hopes people recognise the fics they're from if you post this. I will love you forever.

Derek’s first kiss in four years tastes like fresh-squeezed orange juice and makes his stomach flip like the drop in a rollercoaster. Stiles holds him close like he’s thanking him.

About the summer he spent in Ireland because there were pictures of his mom posed in various tourist sites at Dublin and Dingle and the Giant’s Causeway--places that he wanted to experience personally since he never got to ask her first-hand.

Derek looked at him for a moment, and wow, okay, this was why people wrote songs about love and painted pictures and wrote poetry, because he was pretty sure that he was falling in love with Derek Hale if only because of the guy's beautiful eyes and earnest expressions and his everything. God.

In some ways Stiles has done a lot of growing up since then, but a part of him thinks he’ll always be that scrawny, ridiculous kid at heart, whose greatest joys in life were Froot Loops, cheesy disco tunes, and masturbation.

Stiles gets back from his year abroad in Hungary with more muscles and the first of his tattoos, a knotted rope that runs the length of his spine.

Hey, Derek, can you do me a solid? Nothing serious, just, you know, screw my brains out, that’s all.

He meets Stiles’ gaze from where he's leaning against the back wall, his eyes catching glints of light amid the shadows. Certain people are just meant to live under the open sky.

Whatever he says afterwards, whatever happens between them, there will always be this, the long late afternoon with the sun skidding red in the west, and he will always know what Stiles looked like the first time someone filled him up to the hilt. There are no acrobatics. Nothing fancy happens. Derek feels like the ocean breaking helplessly on the shore, the tide rising, spilling him over.

there’s something about the shape of him, the way he’s huge and solid and beautiful and always thirty seconds away from admitting total defeat that rubs Stiles raw and tender.

“People are so exhausting,” he murmurs, and Stiles is glad to know it: that he isn’t people, that he counts as a kind of between places, maybe even as home.

Updating with the ones that magv1 found. Thank you!!!

Hot Single Dad Derek Hale by WhoNatural | 13.3K | Explicit

Wherein Derek is a Hot Single Dad, possibly with a little case of martyrdom, and Stiles is the newest client at his publishing house who really just wants to make him happy. Preferably while they're both naked.

^^^^^ #1 & 2

But Then What... by Stoney | 24.3K | Explicit

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

^^^^^ #3

My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek by DiscontentedWinter | 38.9K | Explicit

Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good.

^^^^^ #4

i need your sway by thatworldinverted | 11.1K | Explicit

Stiles always figured it would be Scott who saw him through his first heat. They pinky-swore on it, in fact, when they were eleven and newly-presented. There haven’t exactly been an abundance of offers between then and now.

What there is now, though, is the pack, and pack takes care of each other.

^^^^^ #6

Sucker Love by whiskey_in_tea | 17.9K | Explicit

Kate sits up and narrows her eyes at him. “Page 72,” she says. “Why I Plan to Wait, by Stiles Stilinski.”

The spread is hilariously cliched: a full page picture of a pale, pretty boy with a wide-eyed blonde girl walking on the beach, the two of them holding hands and staring into the waves, probably thinking wistfully of the sex they aren’t having. Derek skims the text briefly. “Speaking up about the importance of virginity!” he exclaims. “Reclaiming chastity a a masculine virtue. Our friend Stiles sure is brave.”

“See, I was thinking he might make an interesting challenge,” Kate says lazily. “And he’s surprisingly attractive, don’t you think? Such long fingers. And that mouth.”

^^^^^ #8

[winwintea]

ᴍᴀʀᴋ ʟᴇᴇ ᴠꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ: y/n’s gang and the exes

Y/N ↬ a girl with a LOT of emotional baggage, just recently broke up with chenle after realizing he was toxic, moved to canada as a way to cope (?? why though) unfortunately for her chenle has formed a league of evil exes as a form of revenge on her and her life will not be filled with any peace any time soon.

WINTER ↬ minjeong, aka mark’s ex, who dumped him suddenly one day. now goes by the stage name ‘winter’ and has completely reinvented her image. currently dating jaemin, and also in their own band together

JISUNG ↬ y/n’s first ex, and a professional dancer/choreographer, has no clue why he’s here but he’ll try his best, 22 year old boomer

HAECHAN ↬ y/n’s second ex, very much a whore, currently in a boyband (except think 90s boy bands bc im obsessed with nsync* and backstreet boys rn)

JENO ↬ y/n’s 3rd ex, rapper and dj, bit of a pushover (poor baby), don’t bully him he’ll cry (literally)

SOYEON ↬ Y/N SO FUMBLED HERE. y/n’s 4th ex, very passive aggressive lesbian, full time assassin part time pop-punk soloist🤷‍♀️ so there’s that

JAEMIN ↬ y/n’s 5th ex, basically mark 2.0, a bassist for winter’s band, and photographer! probably way too obsessed with himself but it’s ok it’s na jaemin

RENJUN ↬ y/n’s 6th ex, solo singer, his voice is literally so angelic, biggest idgaf person ever, also really good friends with chenle

CHENLE ↬ y/n’s 7th and final ex, not in the music industry, but the ceo of a very wealthy company, did not take the breakup well and posted a drunken rant on reddit only to find that all of y/n’s previous exes responded. and so the league of evil exes was formed as a way to get back at y/n

HENDERY ↬ y/n's best friend hendery, trust fund kid so he followed her all the way to toronto bc he has nothing else to do with his life, probably a walking hazard idfk someone come get their man

ZHANGHAO ↬ y/n's new friend, whom she met after moving to toronto, here to absolutely mother. very baffled at y/n's love life, thinks she's the most interesting person he's ever met.

Y/N and MARK'S private accounts

prev ↤ masterlist ↦ next

SUMMARY ↬ mark has never wanted anything in his life. the lead bassist for 'dream on', unemployed, and quite literally a loser, mark expects he's hit rock bottom from here. that is until you, the girl of his dreams quite literally skates out of his dreams and into his life. mark has never wanted anything more. but is love really worth the emotional baggage when you have seven evil exes, who each possess superpowers and are intent on defeating him?

GENRES ↬ social media au (smau), fluff, angst, drama, fantasy au, band au, scott pilgrim au, explicit(?), gay people (ten) help mark find true love

TAG LIST ↬ @lyvhie @h-aechanie @aquaphoenixz @galacticnct @spiderm444rk @nerdsungie @nanaxwi @lotties-readings @nessaassen02 @alethea-moon @222brainrot @kittydollzz @n0hyuck @dudekiss3r @wony1e @whr4nakin @chenlesfavorite @onlyhyunjin (if your username isn’t in blue/grey, please check your visibility settings so i can properly tag you <33)

[trancylovecraft]

Can I have the Yandere alphabet for Matthew Patel?

(SCOTT PILGRIM) YANDERE! MATTHEW PATEL x READER: ALPHABET

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: my guy looks like amon from aoex so of course i love this bastard >:)

FANDOM: Scott Pilgrim

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

DEFINETLY SHOWY. This man definetly likes showing you off and to do that he gives a lot of physical affection. When you go out he has to be touching you somewhere.

Hand-holding, Arm around your waist, Anywhere else. He just wants to prove that you are his. Apart from that, Acts of service is also pretty big as he enjoys proving his love to you.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Matthew isn't really big on gore, He just wants to get the job done when defeating his opponents! If it happens to be bloody, Then so be it. But if it's just one and done then that's completely fine with him too!

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Matthew would want your affection immediatley. I don't think he would mock you, Just be confounded as to why you aren't returning his love. Otherwise he would try to make you feel as comfortable as possible, Providing whatever you want within reason.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Affection, Physical touch. He won't listen if you say you don't want him to touch you as he see's it as his right since he considers you his prize.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Quite a lot, He believes you and him are "destined by the stars" to be together so why should he hide anything from you? Perhaps at the start he'd try to keep a tough guy persona, But Matthew would fold pretty quickly and give into his vulnerability.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Pretty confused and maybe a little hurt. You're his partner now! Why are you trying to fight him, You're soulmates so it hurts to know that his one and only is trying to harm him.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

A game? Maybe, A game in the sense that he's in it to win you similar to how he tried to win Ramona. But once he has you in his hold then it's instantly game over, He won, So you trying to escape would not be welcome in the slightest.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably the kidnapping. Matthew isn't a particularly violent yandere towards you so him kidnapping you would definetly be the worst of it all.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Matthew imagines you and him living together, Married. You'd be accepting of his rather obsessive tendencies and maybe you'd have a kid or two thrown in there, If not kids, Then you'll be getting a few dogs.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

We're talking about the man who joined a league of evil exes to get back his girlfriend from middle school (Which was about a week long by the way) so of course he's going to be jealous! It's his main feature!

Jealousy is literally this man's entire thing. Gets pissed at any woman or man who even dares to interact with you. He's cray cray!

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He softens up, Definetly. While he's definetly more angry/eccentric around other people, That just muddles down into eccentric. He's much more nicer, Almost acting like a body-guard of sorts

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He would be annoying flamboyant about it.

Like my man would be outside of your apartment with flowers, A stuffed animal, Chocolates, An entire band to play wedding music and you won't even know who he is.

Love letters under your door everyday, Love letters at work to tell you how pretty you looked getting your coffee. Love letters telling you to meet up with him and confused notes that ask why you didn't come.

It's creepy, To say the least.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

No, Not really. It's more of he's just softer around you and doesn't have a particular urge to prove his strength, He's more affectionate too though I suppose with all the physical touch.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Matthew probably wouldn't punish his darling, He wouldn't have the heart to! The worst he would ever do is isolate you in a room for a few hours, Though it was meant to be days, He just couldn't resist being near you again.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

At the start, None of them because he assumes that you love him and you can have a relationship as normal.

However at any sign of possible escape or defiance then this man will take away all of them in a paranoid frenzy. Locked in a room, No internet etc-etc

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Matthew is VERY patient. Though if you continue with the "I don't love you" schtick for a good few months then I can see him loosing his cool and starting to yell at you for a good long while. Other than that, I see nothing else.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If you die then Matthew would be devastated and wrecked with guilt, It's possible he might even try to join you in a "'Till death do us part" fashion to try and get to you in the afterlife.

If you leave/escape then Matthew will never stop searching. You are his one and only, Even when he's old and grey he will continue forever and ever if it means he gets to see you again.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No, Matthew would not usually feel guilty. Though there are times late at night where he does feel kind of guilty for kidnapping you, Though he quickly rationalises it by saying that it was suppose to happen, That you were suppose to be together!

So no, He would most likely not let you go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Him being the weird lonely kid. You being nice to him would instantly bring out his desire for love and attention, He attaches onto you because no one else really did before.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He's really hurt by it, You should be loving him! Why are you crying? Do you not love him? Matthew just wants you to be comfortable with him and love him just like he does with you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Nothing really other than the fact that he doesn't care for taking down opponents.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His blind love for you, Deffos. Take advantage of it at the start, Get in your car, Drive to mexico and change your name and you will be free from the horror that is Matthew Patel.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Never, Not in a million years. Matthew would rather die before harming you, He's basically your body guard and views himself as your protector so him harming you would be failing that.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Matthew worships everything you touch, Taking them as keepsakes. You are basically a divine angel compared to him, So you are very much worthy of the love and praise he's willing to give you.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A few years, Maybe even a decade of you not accepting his advances. Matthew is very patient but when he snaps.. It is BAD.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

No, It's not likely. If he did, Matthew would try anything to get you back to your old self.

[deconstructthesoup]

One thing I really liked about the Scott Pilgrim anime is that Gideon is the only one who remained evil.

Yeah, he got a depression arc, and he got a girlfriend who's scary enough to not take his shit and for him to actually respect her, but he's still evil. He still fully intended to blow up a theater to get back at someone. He got his CEO position back, and we all know that that's only an opportunity for him to be more evil. And if the end credits scene is to go off of, he's got plans.

But the other exes? They got closure. They got character development. They got to move forward. Because they honestly... weren't that bad.

Matthew Patel, who had the biggest glowup, was literally just a middle school thing. Yeah, Ramona ditched him and was kind of sucky, but it probably wouldn't have lasted anyway. And like she said, he didn't really get "evil" until high school, and by then he'd already moved.

Lucas Lee? Maybe he had some mild toxic tendencies when he and Ramona dated, but from what he saw, he was actually pretty sweet during their relationship. In the comics, he's honestly the most reasonable of the exes, deciding to actually have a chat with Scott before Scott convinces him to grind to death. And he didn't do anything to Ramona to make her break up with him---she just dumped him for Todd.

Todd Ingram, while being a little bit obsessive---and based on the comics and the anime, a compulsive cheater---didn't seem that horrible when they were dating, either, unless you count the "punch the hole in the moon" thing. He and Ramona broke up because of a long-distance thing. She went off to college, he went back to Envy. Bit of a douche? Yeah. Actively horrible to her? Not really, honestly.

Roxie Richter, our incredible half-ninja lesbian, is arguably the best out of Ramona's exes. She and Ramona had a genuinely healthy relationship, they actually got along great, and Roxie deeply cared about her... and Ramona straight-up broke her heart. When you look at it, Roxie really is the only ex who fully did nothing wrong. No erratic tendencies that caused Ramona to decide to cut her out, no behaviors that Ramona probably knew would become problematic unless she split. Roxie was sweet, she was Ramona's bi awakening... and Ramona didn't like her as much as Roxie liked her. The whole situation was just mass miscommunication, and it's totally understandable why Roxie is still bitter down the line. Unlike with the others, Ramona's fully in the wrong, which is why they need to reconcile first.

Kyle and Ken---okay, in the comics, they were amazing villains, and it's kind of a crime that they keep getting shafted, but honestly... I get it. Their relationship with Ramona wasn't actually that complicated. They were players, she played them back, they resented her for it until they got over it. Of course they're the exes that are kind of the masterminds in the anime---along with Old Scott---and of course they're the exes that are the most chill.

Gideon, on the other hand, is the only ex who can only be described as a full-on bastard. Out of all seven of the "evil" exes, Gideon's the only one who Ramona outright says was abusive. In the comics, beyond just starting the league, he controlled her and Scott's mind and straight-up imprisoned his own ex-girlfriends, fully intending to do the same to Ramona. He's also the only ex who was defeated by both Scott and Ramona, and it's the most satisfying thing to see him fully get his ass kicked. It's fully unsurprising that his backstory in the anime was that he was an incel who nobody liked, and he got dangerous once he got money.

So of course, when all of the other exes are getting cool redemption arcs, moments of self-actualization, coming-out moments, and instances of actually befriending the heroes, Gideon's the one who stays an asshole. He has a fall from grace and becomes a loser, the girl who he winds up with is also evil and thinks him being evil is hot, and at the end of the series, they're a villain power couple, emphasis on villain. Gideon learned to treat his girlfriend with respect, and probably moved on from Ramona... aaaaaaand that's it. He's still a dick. He's still an evil mastermind.

So... yeah. The Scott Pilgrim anime is great, as are the comics. Check 'em both out.

[topazy]

Blood moon

Pairing: Scott McCall x reader

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Chapter: 7.02

You step into the kitchen and drop the glass of orange juice from your hand as you jump backwards, startled by the figure leaning against the island in the middle of the room. So much for werewolf reflexes. Since the sleepover Wyatt was at got canceled, you had awkwardly suggested everyone regrouped at another location. As much as you cared for Lydia, you didn’t want your son near anything that was going on.

“Jesus McCall, haven’t you ever heard of knocking?” You huff, looking down at the sticky liquid spreading fast across the floor. You grab a handful of kitchen rolls and dab at it before the juice runs onto your cream carpet in the next room.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to- Sorry. I just wanted to see if you were okay,” Scott said. He sighed, noticing you were avoiding his gaze. “Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.”

Scott puffed out his cheeks, feeling defeated already. “I don’t usually ask when it comes to you and Isaac, but what’s going on? He left kind of abruptly.”

You re-enter the living room fidgeting with the silver band on your middle finger, the pad of your thumb feeling the small rubies on it. “Guys, I hate to do this, but Wyatt’s coming home, and I don’t want him around... whatever this is.”

Scott looks up at your alarm. “Why, what’s wrong?”

“He’s fine; his friend's mom just texted and said one of the kids started vomiting, so everyone’s gotta go.”

Isaac yanks his jacket from the back of the coat hanger. “I’ll go get him. Take him to the arcade or cinema.”

“He still needs to have his dinner.”

“Then I’ll take him for pizza first,” Isaac slams the front door behind him when he leaves the house.

You cock your head to the side, looking up at Scott, still irritated by your brother. “He’s just... he's got an issue with his girlfriend. Where did everyone else go?”

“The animal clinic.”

After all this time, no matter what changed throughout the years, Deaton’s vets was the safe place you and your friends gravitate towards whenever times are tough. A small smile creeps onto your face as you think about the times as teenagers when your pack would gather in the same place.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking how, after all this time, we still go to the same place for help.” You squeeze Scott’s shoulder. “Did I ever tell you I’m proud of you for becoming a vet?”

“Uhh, you have,” he chuckles. “But it means a lot coming from you, no matter how many times I hear it.”

“Are you staying here until Wyatt gets home?”

“Yeah,” he pulls his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll just let Stiles know I’ll catch up with them later.”

—

“Daddy!”

“Hey, little man.”

Smiling, Scott picks Wyatt up and kisses his cheek. “Where did Uncle Isaac take you?”

While your son fills his father in on all the fun games he played at the arcade, Isaac mumbles an apology as he walks by. He places a stuffed toy on the kitchen counter; it looks just like one I had as a girl. “I’m going to be out for the rest of the night,” he says. “I don’t know if you’ve seen it, but Stiles asked if someone who’s werewolf could spend the night in case he needs help with Lydia.”

“It’s probably for the best that someone is there for her. I think Scott was going to meet them at the vets.”

“Actually,” Scott walks over with Wyatt now sitting on his shoulders. “I was going to put this little monster to bed once he has showed me his new toys.”

Scott wasn’t outright asking, but from his tone, you knew it was a question. You smile, although he was a good dad. Scott never got to spend the same amount of time with your son as you did, which made him feel guilty. “Sure, but first he’s going for a bath.”

—

You yawn into the back of your hand, not wanting to interrupt Scott and Wyatt playing before bed. You curled up on the couch to watch a film. You’re starting to doze off when Scott comes back down the stairs and sits next to you, much to your surprise.

“Is he asleep already?”

“Yeah, probably a sugar crash.”

You reposition yourself on the couch so Scott has more space; the thick fluffy grey blanket covering your lap slides down at one side, revealing. Noticing, Scott pulls on the bottom of your nightgown, “cute.”

Your nightgown was light pink, silky, with little stars and moons on it.

“Don’t tease.”

Smirking, Scott lowers his head till your lips meet. At first the kiss is soft and gentle, but it quickly becomes heated. Feeling his hand on your bare thigh, your legs part, and Scott begins rubbing at the most sensitive spot through your underwear.

“Oh,” you slap your hand over your mouth to stop making noise.

Scott kisses your neck while sliding two of his fingers inside you, muffling his own groans. Just as you go to unzip his jeans, you open your eyes and notice the blinds had opened slightly and were now open, and something was outside looking in.

Abruptly, you push Scott’s hand away and jump to your feet. He stares at you alarmed, “Shit, did I hurt you?”

You shake your head, “There’s someone outside.”

“Keep an eye on the doors.” Without needing any further explanation, Scott sprints upstairs and then quickly runs back down with Wyatt in his arms. “Is it still there?”

You do your best to discreetly peek out of the window; at first you don’t see anything, but then you notice there’s a white mask left laying on the grass. “Not that I can see.”

He hands you Wyatt, who was still half asleep. “We gotta run for the car. Once we are inside, call Stiles and tell him we are going to the clinic, then call the police.”

You didn’t have time to ask questions, but something had scared the hell out of Scott as well.

[bagerfluff]

can I request stiles stilinski x male reader

take place way after void has been defeated

plot new student joins the school and he very tall muscular leather wearing bad boy who stiles become whipped for reader ask stiles out and stiles agrees all to excitedly but scott doesn't like nor trust reader you know how stiles usually the paranoid one well this time stiles is not but Scott is you know when Scott get paranoid it bad real bad Scott is having a full on paranoid panic attack that because he can't sense what reader is but Scott know reader not human leading Scott to believe reader is the most dangerous thing Scott and the pack has ever encountered and Scott just suppose to let his best friend be hang around reader absolutely not so imagine Scott reaction to stiles telling him that stiles and reader are going on a date alone all by themselves at night --------- reader is a hybrid between a demon and a hellhound and a nogistue

reader father is a hybrid between a demon and a hellhound reader mother is a nogistue like void

Your wish is my command and I hope I fulfilled your wish. If you wish for a part two tell me and I might do it.

The New Kid

Stiles Stilinski x Male Reader

Set after season three

Stiles sighed as he entered Beacon Hills High School. He had stayed up all night studying for a test that he was ninety percent sure he was going to fail. So Stiles was half asleep as he walked over to his locker where Scott was already there. Waiting for Stiles. But he was looking behind him. “Hey Scott” Stiles yawned as he opened his locker. “Hey Stiles,” Scott said, looking over at Stiles but still glancing over his shoulder. “Who are you looking at?” Stiles asked, looking over Scott’s shoulder. I'm not waiting for Scott to answer him. When Stiles eyes landed on who Scott was looking at, Stiles eyes widened, and he blushed.

He was looking at Y/n. You were new to Beacon Hills. Having moved in a few months ago and joining the high school student body a couple of weeks ago. Y/n was given the name as the ‘bad boy’ by the students. You were pretty tall and muscular despite not being on the lacrosse team. He also wore black leather jackets and jeans. Y/n was kind of a loner because almost everyone was scared of him. Stiles for him hot. Ever since Stiles first saw Y/n. He was in Stiles math class, so he saw you almost every day. “Why are you looking at him?” Stiles asked once he was done gawking at you and looking back at Scott. Who was  still looking at you.

Scott had been watching you ever since you came to the school. He’d watch you whenever he got the chance. His eyes squinted as he basically glared at you. “I don’t know,” Scott said as he started to walk to his first class. As not to be late. Stiles quickly shut his locker and ran to catch up to Scott. “I just get a bad feeling from him,” Scott said as he stopped right outside his classroom. “But he didnt’ do anything,” Stiles said as he stopped right in front of Scott. “I just get a bad feeling from him. Might be instincts. Scott said as he entered the classroom. Stiles couldn't really argue with that. Since Scott was a werewolf, he had some sixth sense to see if someone was evil.

But you hadn’t done anything. You were acting weird. You weren’t connected to any supernatural thing that was happening. Was that what Scott was talking about? Did he sense you were supernatural? Surely not. Stiles was about to ask Scott, but the bell rang, and the teacher entered that classroom. Guess Stiles would have to ask him later.

Scott sighed as he sat in his history class. It was about halfway through the day, and Scott wasn’t really listening to anything any of his teachers have said. He was too busy thinking about you. Scott could tell that you weren’t human, You didn’t smell right. Plus, when he used his wolf sight, he saw some weird red figure around you. It looked like a wild dog mixed with a cat or a fox. Scott couldn’t really tell. Plus, the figure had horns. Like demon horns. Scott could tell from when he was near you that you were powerful. More powerful than anything he and his pack had ever faced. But what were you planning? Nothing weird or supernatural had happened in a while. Were you waiting for the right time to attack.

Were you waiting for Scott to be alone? It was even worse since Stiles seemed to validate you. Scott could hear Stiles heartbeat increased whenever you were mentioned or when Stiles saw you. Did you put him under a spell? Could you do magic? Scott didn’t know. And that scared Scott. Scott knew you were dangerous. But he didn’t know why or how. So, for now, he had to keep his friends safe. Till he could figure out what you were and what you were planning. Maybe Scott could ask Deaton what you were. Or Derek. Someone. He needed to know. But for now, all he could do was wait. And keep an eye on you. 

“So why do you think Y/n is evil?” Stiles asked Scott during lunch. Stiles was eating his lunch as Scott just looked at you. You were actually eating your lunch. Or that’s what Scott thought. Your back was facing the two boys. “I think he’s supernatural,” Scott said as he looked back at Stiles. Leaning closer to the boy and whispering so nobody could overhear them. “So that makes him evil?” Stile asked. He was confused. Just because you were supernatural doesn't mean you were evil. You hadn’t even done anything. Now that made Scott confused. Any other time, Scott said he thought someone was supernatural. Stiles would be paranoid. But now he wasn’t. Scott wondered why Stiles seemed to defend you. 

Scott leaned closer to Stiles to tell Stiles that he thought you might be the most powerful thing they had ever faced. Stiles eyes widened as Scott leaned back down and turned his head to glare at you. Were you evil? Stiles didn’t think so. You hadn’t done or said anything to make anyone think you were evil. But Scott was the werewolf, and Stiles wasn’t. So maybe Scott was right. Stiles leaned his body so he could look at you. Though Scott had told him that you might be evil, Stiles couldn’t help himself from thinking that you were hot. Your hair, eyes, face, body. Everything. Stiles sighed as he went back to eating. 

Stiles ran out the doors of the school as the bell rang. But he stopped when he heard someone call out his name. Stiles turned around, and he blushed as he saw you walking over to him. “Hey Stilinski” you said once you were close enough. “Hey L/n” Stiles said as he tried to keep eye contact. But hell, your eyes were pretty. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date?” You asked with a sly smile. Stiles blushed as he heard you and by that smile. Got you were hot. Stiles shook his head to remove his thought, but then quickly nodded. “YES!” Stiles yelled but was then embarrassed by how loud he yelled. You let out a little laugh at Stiles cuteness as you pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Call me cutie” you said with a wink as you walked away. 

Stiles looked down at the note and smiled. But Scott was scared. You see, Scott was waiting for Stiles in his jeep. And heard your entire conversation. What were you planning? Why did you want to go on a date with Stiles? Did you want to hurt Stiles? Maybe you wanted to hurt Scott by hurting Stiles? Scott was scared. Maybe he could convince Stiles not to go. Scott was staring into space as Stiles got into the driver's seat of the jeep and placed the note in his bag. “Did you hear!” Stiles yelled at Scott. Shocking him out of his thoughts. “I’m going on a date with the hottest guy at the school!” Stiles was excited. He was going on a date with you. Tonight. The note had a phone number and a time and place for your date.

“Are you sure this is safe?” Scott asked but continued talking before Stiles could answer him. “What if he is evil? What if he’s trying to kill you?” Stiles eyes widened as he realized how scared and paranoid Scott was. Scott and Stiles stayed silent after Scott was done talking. Scott took a breath in before he continued talking “I don’t know what Y/n is, and that scares me” Stiles nodded, telling Scott to continue. And Scott did “let me at least talk to Deaton before you go on a date with him” Stiles nodded as he started the car and started to drive to Scott’s house. Maybe Scott was right? But if Stiles doesn't go on a date now, he may never get the chance to again. Surely, going on one date isn’t bad, right?

How bad could you be? How dangerous could you be? Surely, you were just a werewolf, and Scott was paranoid. Right?

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Dean Obeidallah at The Dean's Report:

Donald Trump was NOT convicted by Joe Biden, he was NOT convicted by the Judge, he was NOT convicted by the District Attorney.  Donald Trump was convicted by a jury of his peers. A jury, I should note, that Trump was personally “very much involved” in picking per his lawyer Todd Blanche on CNN Thursday night. And that conviction happened in the state where Trump committed his crimes after a full trial that lasted more than a month where Trump was represented by a team of very experienced lawyers who presented his best defense. That is how our Constitution and criminal justice system works. There were no surprises here. As I predicted in my article before the trial began, “Trump is going to be a Convicted Felon by June." That was based on my experience as a trial lawyer and after reviewing the evidence the prosecutors had laid out in their pleadings. Common sense said that the only reason Trump paid Stormy Daniels “hush money” ten years after their affair —but just a week before the 2016 election—was to defraud voters of the truth. To that end, Trump falsified business records to conceal his illegal scheme. The jury saw the facts as they were, hence Trump was found guilty on all 34 counts and is now a CONVICTED FELON.

Yet now we see Trump and MAGA reject the jury verdict by attacking it as “rigged,” a “sham,” etc. MAGA House Speaker Mike Johnson called the verdict, “the weaponization of our justice system.”  Marco Rubio weighed in on Twitter, writing, “The verdict in New York is a complete travesty that makes a mockery of our system of justice.”  The always awful MAGA Rep. Elise Stefanik, posted, “Today’s verdict shows how corrupt, rigged, and unAmerican the weaponized justice system has become under Joe Biden and Democrats.”  Spineless Tim Scott said on CNN Thursday night, “This was certainly a hoax, a sham” with the even worse Ted Cruz stating, “This entire trial has been a sham, and it is nothing more than political persecution.” And the list goes on and on. But this is no surprise, it’s part of MAGA telling us they reject our Constitution and the foundations of our democratic Republic. After all, Trump and MAGA rejected the 2020 election results because Trump lost. They rejected the criminal justice system when they smeared the indictments against Trump as being a sham. And now they publicly reject our jury system, which is one of the cornerstones of the US Constitution as laid out in the Sixth Amendment.

The question that must be asked is given Trump and MAGA reject our elections, our criminal justice system, the rule of law and our Constitution, what exactly do they support?! The answer is simple: Convicted Felon Trump. That’s it. [...] Let me repeat what I’ve been writing and saying for months: Don’t count on the courts, the prosecutors or a jury to save us from Donald Trump. We are the only ones who can do that by coming out in huge numbers to defeat him this November. This may sound jarring but it’s the truth: MAGA is a cancer. If allowed to metastasis, it will kill our democratic Republic that so many sacrificed so much to defend. The good news though is that the cure to MAGA cancer is right in front of us. All it takes is voting in big numbers this November.

The butthurt MAGAs crying and whining about Convicted Felon Donald Trump being convicted on 34 charges for business records falsification is more proof that the extremist anti-American MAGA cult needs to be crushed at all costs.

See Also:

Vox: Why the ludicrous Republican response to Trump’s conviction matters

MMFA: MAGA media rage in response to Trump's 34 guilty verdicts

RWW: MAGA Martyrdom Machine Portrays Felon Trump as Victim, Vows Revenge

HuffPost: Right-Wingers Are Already Promising Vengeance After The Trump Verdict

Daily Kos: Republicans choose MAGA lunacy over the law after Trump's conviction

[sheryl-lee]

no because i just remembered a few extra things that make the teen wolf m*vie even more of a pathetic exercise in clownery:

allison staying Alive and getting back together w/ scott means that they’re doing a dan/serena in s3 of gossip girl (in that they are dating. while their parents are ALSO dating. ew. gross. what the fuckkkkk)

the age gap between malia and parrish is JUST as gross as when they tried to make lydia and parrish a thing in s5 and it’s disgusting and i hate parrish on the basis that he is an empty husk of a character who’s always Just There and Shirtless Whilst On Fire

speaking of, derek dies by setting himself on fire. FIRE. the same thing that killed HIS FUCKING FAMILY????? and he sets himself on fire in front of his own son which he would never do because he went through the same thing when he watched his family die???? 🥴 huh?????

isaac took the box that contained the nogitsune in it w/ him to like france or whatever. so how the fuck do liam and discount!kira have it with them in JAPAN????? 

the logistics of derek having a 15 yr old child is so ridiculously dumb like they didn’t even TRY with that it makes no sense and the only person who could be the mother is fucking kate argent (derek’s literal rapist) and i hate that so much

stiles would never leave the jeep behind. the jeep is the only thing he has left of his mother. why would he leave it in beacon hills and then never return to beacon hills. lmao.

in the s3 finale, the pack defeats the nogitsune with a WOLF BITE. because he “can’t be a fox and a wolf” (direct quote!). so how the fuck does the nogitsune come back and turn into a *squints* FOX WOLF HYBRID is this even real-

lydia said that her grandmother had banshee premonitions of her own gf dying, and even though she tried to prevent it, her gf died anyway. so how can lydia be 100% sure that if she breaks up with stiles, he still won’t die????? lmao

how are derek and scott both true alphas if there’s only 1 in like a 1000 years or whatever the fuck i forgot but. it’s still stupid

there’s probably more but yeah this is what happens when you can’t just leave well enough alone. let things end. not every piece of media needs a reboot revival requel sequel spinoff whatever. just let things go instead of sacrificing your fans and creativity for a soulless cash grab 🫥